The sun shine through the tall windows of the palace library, drifting shelves of scrolls in warm light. Alaric sat on a chair, legs swinging, eyes full with curiosity and something sharper.
You see, Mother, he said, voice calm but certain, "a kingdom is nothing without order. And order cannot exist without control.
The Queen's hands drifted over the scroll she was reading, without looking at him. She said, Control is not everything,Compassion and wisdom are what make a ruler be remembered, not fear.
Alaric raise his head, studying her like a scholar examining a theory. Fear is enough. It moves people faster than words. It keeps them in line when law and custom fail. Don't you see? A ruler who hesitates is a ruler who is forgotten.
The Queen set the scrolls aside, fear scrolling in her chest. I see ambition. But there is a difference between ambition and obsession. You speak Asin the people exist only meant to serve you, not to live alongside you.
He smiled faintly, and there was no warmth in it. They exist for the kingdom, Mother. And the kingdom exists for me. I will shape it, guide it and bend it to my will.
The Queen rose, walking slowly around the room, her skirts sweeping the marble floor. Alaric, this… this hunger for power. I feel it in you. It is like a shadow I cannot touch, a cold thing rising inside you even now. It is not wrong to wish to lead, but to need control above all else,it is dangerous. Even for a prince.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowing with intent. Dangerous? Perhaps. But what is greatness if it is safe? A king who fears his own strength is no king at all. Look at the world, Mother. Look at the people, the lands, the threats we face. They will not wait for me to hesitate.
The Queen's hands clenched at her sides. She looked at him, and for the first time she felt the old, sharp fear of something she thought she had buried when he was born. Alaric, you are my son. But I fear the man you are becoming. I fear a king who rules only with his fist and his will, who forgets mercy because he cannot see weakness in himself. Power is a tool, not a purpose.
He rose slowly, tall and commanding, the fire in his gaze sharpening. Then perhaps it is a good thing you will not always be here to stop me."
The Queen drew a sharp breath, and for a moment the library seemed smaller, blurry,suffocating. She searched his face, looking for the boy she had kissed at his birth, the boy she had held as he stumbled learning to walk. That boy was gone or buried beneath something colder.
"Alaric, she said softly, but with all the authority she could muster, remember this. Power without restraint breaks everything it touches. You must learn to guide, not just command. Do you hear me?
He regarded her silently for a heartbeat, then lower his head. I hear you, Mother. But I do not promise to obey.
After Alaric left the library, the Queen remained standing, her hands pressed to the edge of the carved table. The sunlight that had drifted the scrolls now felt too bright, too sharp, as if it exposed what she had tried so long to hide.
She thought of the words she had spoken,Power without restraint breaks everything it touches, and felt them echo against the walls of the palace in a way that frightened her. For in the calm certainty of her son's eyes, she had glimpsed something older, something colder than childhood ambition.
A memory stirred, buried beneath decades ; the prophecies she had read in dust heavy books , in forgotten tongues that whispered of imbalance and birthright, of children who would come unannounced and bend the world around them. At the time, she had brushed the warnings aside, comforted by the notion that the heir of Avalon would be a boy of light, safe in her care.
And yet, now, as she watched Alaric stride through the hallways with a confidence that felt too absolute, she could not ignore the threads of those ancient warnings.
One the world bends for.
The phrase returned to her. She had heard it once in the Hall of Record, in the tremble of the High Seer's voice, as if the words themselves carried the weight of the future. And in Alaric, she now felt it,not in the soft laughter of a child, not in the clumsy curiosity of a boy but in the hunger for control, the certainty that the world must obey him.
Her fingers brushed the pendant he had worn as an infant, a token she had hidden when he was too small to understand it. She felt its cold stone, almost alive beneath her palm, and a shiver passed through her. She had protected him from danger, yes but not from himself. And perhaps that danger was the most terrifying of all.
The Queen sank into her chair, eyes shifting to the mural above the hearth. Storms frozen in thread, mountains breaking beneath impossible hands, a shield standing against fire and sky alike. She had walked beneath that image countless times, telling herself it was history. But now, she could see it as warning. The world remembered powers too vast, too ancient, to bend to mortal rule.
She placed her hands on her forehead,a quiet prayer slipping through her lips. Not for Alaric. Not yet. But for the kingdom, and for the fragile balance she had spent her life trying to preserve.
And somewhere deep within her heart, a small, quiet fear took root,one she could not voice, even to herself. That the prophecy had never been about storms or flames, about signs or omens. It had been about the choices a child would make. And she could already see which path her eldest was choosing.
Light, yes but a light that might burn the world if left unchecked.
The Queen rose and walked to the window, watching the city spread below her. The bells had fallen silent. The wind whispered through the spires, carrying faint echoes she could almost recognize.
The world bends for him.
She pressed a hand against the glass, eyes narrowing. She would guide him. She must. But deep down, she knew that no mother could hold back a storm once it had decided to rise.
And somewhere, far below, the hidden twin slept, unaware, the other path quietly waiting to be shaped.